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MindGames
The Forge The night is young. The pit fights have ended only a few breems ago. The remaining gladiators are tending to their wounds, and those with less severe injuries are in the Warrior's Hall, discussing the competition over a mug of engex. And of course, who else should arrive conveniently after all the bloodshed has ended than the ostentatious ruler of Vos, Starscream. He flies towards the Forge in his jet form, protoforming just before landing. He smirks, dusting himself off (though there's precious little to dust off), before glancing around at the various mechs gathered in the vicinity. Blast Off was one of those fighters. he hasn't made it to the deepest pits yet, but he's been in several skirmishes. The Combaticon sits at a table, patching himself up with a repair kit and drinking some of that engex. It's not the wine he *wishes* he could afford (and which is rare around these parts anyway), but the shuttle is (slowly) learning to make due with what he has. Catching sight of Starscream, he gives him a slight glare before turning to ignore him. The Seeker irritates him a bit... though then again, so do most people. Bombshell had made a habit of visiting the pits for himself, he was quite, watchful, but most of all careful not to raise attention to himself. He was studying these warriors, their strengths and weakness, he was a student of torment, and he wished to know everything there was to know about true suffering. Though his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden intrusion of Starscream, a most interesting specimen indeed. Though Bombshell hated the pompous types he was deeply curious why a high caste member was doing among the sludge of Cybertron's corrupt underbelly. Starscream approaches Blast Off, smirking. "Well, I assume you've been doing well, you're alive. Though I have to admit, you do look under the weather, how concerning." Not. He grins, and pats him on the shoulder. Then Starscream notices Bombshell, and smiles. "Funny how one can run into the most interesting sorts around here," he says, "tell me, do you enjoy watching the pit fights?" Starscream asks Bombshell. If Bombshell doesn't like pompous High Castes, he's probably not going to like Blast Off either. The elite shuttleformer used to be just that. However, unlike Starscream, Blast Off lost his comfortable "high life" when he became a fugitive from the law- and had to leave everything behind. His money, his habsuite, his wine, everything. Now he sits here and *tries* to fit in... just not very well. Oh, and the pompousness? He hasn't lost THAT. Speaking of that, when Starscream approaches him... the Combaticon shuttle tenses, annoyed- then blinks and looks up. "...Under the weather? I should look FINE! I mean, I did just get out of the pits, so naturally I might not look my best, but..." he starts looking concerned and trying to patch himself up even faster than before. It's bad enough that he picks up grime and energon splatters in the pits (how gross). "Well, and yes, of course I'm alive! They throw everything they can at me, but I am a Combaticon- AND a space shuttle. I will ALWAYS survive." The shuttleformer then glances up as Starscream addresses Bombshell. He looks a bit surprised- and a little possibly disgusted (though it's mild) to see an Insecticon. "Interesting? I was thinking the same thing." stated Bombshellas he met the optics of his so called 'superior'. "As a matter of fact I find it fascinating how violent the 'civilized' upperworlders are when pitted with real danger." it probably wasn't the best idea to speak around government officials but with a gladiator and a obviously corrupt official he figured his chances of being brought in were slim at best. Still, he did not like how the Combaticon eyed him. "You know Gladiator, if you have a problem with me you can state it, I won't tell your slave-master you insult a free Mech." the Warper couldn't help but spite those who saw him as weak, he wasn't legally free but at least he wasn't bound to the place like he assumed the warriors were. "Oh, /please/," Starscream says, looking exasperated and waving a hand at the Combaticon, "you know, you're so amusing when you're in complete denial," the seeker says, laughing, "I could almost call it /cute/." "Why, thank you," Starscream says airily. "I'm flattered." He smirks a little. "Oh, do you?" he says, "seems our interests align." He hovers, drawing closer to Bombshell. "In fact, I'd like to see just how capable you are. That is, if you're interested in showing me." His optics gleam. Blast Off's optics go wide with indignation. "SLAVE-MASTER?!" The Combaticon is immediately on his feet. "I BEG your PARDON?!" He straightens up to glare haughtily at the Insecticon. "I am NO ONE's slave! The Senate tried to MAKE me there's, and that's why I am here now. Do NOT insult me like that again. I CHOOSE my own destiny, no one chooses it FOR me. I am a space shuttle... we are the most elite group there is... and we bow to no one." His optics narrow. "Where the SLAG do you even get an idea like that?!" He turns to give Starscream a withering glare, which changes to more indignation soon enough. "WHAT. Denial!? I am NOT!" (Yes he is.) "There is no need for denial when one is as /magnificent/ as I am..." "You heard me oh magnificent one. If you are so free, why not leave this place? Go find a comfy seat among the leaders you so scorn." soft chuckling emitted from the twisted Warper as he shot a quick glance to the angered shuttle. Bombshell did however almost wish to take Starscream up on his offer. "Perhaps if I actually manage to find a worthy foe among these ruffians you may see my abilities first hand." though quite short by normal standards, Bombshell seemed to compose himself just fine among the two, as though he thought himself standing above even the 'great' shuttles Starscream laughs. "Ha, you're absolutely /adorable/," he smirks at Blast Off. He looks down at Blast Off, as he hovers over the two mechs. "Well, well, we have an interesting situation here," the seeker says, looking from Blast Off over to the Insecticon. "How would you like a weapon?" Starscream says. "And why not the Combaticon? I deem him a worthy foe." The seeker's lights up a devious grin, taking a laser rifle out of his subspace compartment. Blast Off continues to bristle at Bombshell's remarks. The elite shuttleformer isn't used to someone- certainly not an Insecticon- speaking to him in such a manner. But the Insecticon is insightful, too... far too insightful. "I... well, I am here ... because I *choose* to be! My team is here, so I fight alongside them!" Of course, he had no idea they were here when he first showed up, but hey... details, details. A wing elevon twitches nervously, and he glances away, only to glare back again soon after. "RUFFIANS?" At this he takes a step forward. "Are you calling ME a ruffian? ME?" This is (horrors of horrors) indeed a GRAVE insult to the shuttleformer. "And what makes you believe you are some authority on what makes someone a ruffian... a slave... or anyone generally uncouth? I'd think that was more the realm of an *Insecticon*." Starscream's comment gets a startled glance from the shuttle. "Wait... what?" He looks at the Insecticon. "Well, of... of course *I'm* worthy... wait, what was this? A challenge for combat?" "I would be interested if the combaticon wasn't so unstable." there was almost a twinkle in Bombshell's optics that this Starscream actually compared the insecticon to the self-proclaimed master form. "You are correct, we are scrap-eating beasts but we come by it honestly. Your technology and codes only blind to the honest truth that you are as primal as we are. You pitiful excuse of a cybertronian, blindly clawing your way to enlightenment, the same path that took me a fraction of the time to complete. Cybertron is changing and when history immortalizes those who stood above the rest, even a Shuttle like you will be forgotten. Doomed to mediocrity." Bombshell was about as angry as his cold demure would allow. Blast Off dared to insult a race that had a reason to exist on Cybertron. With a clenched claw he stared down Blast Off, maybe arena combat was something that should happen, beating sense into the Shuttle did sound exciting. "Oh, pff, unstable, yes, but he can fight, at least, he's survived thus far as a gladiator," Starscream consoles Bombshell. "Oh come on, I know you want give him a piece, so why don't you? Release all that you're capable of. /Impress/ me more. I already like you, but I know you can blow my mind, if you want to." He tosses the laser rifle to Bombshell. "Here's some free candy from me, just to make things more interesting." He glances at Blast Off. "Yes.. Indeed. See, even he agrees he's a worthy foe." Blast Off HUFFFS. This Insection certainly seems quite capable of getting under his (metal) skin. "UNSTABLE?" Another huff. "Primal?! I am a *civilized* mech... but do NOT try my patience, Insecticon!" For all the "civilized" talk, the Combaticon shuttle "gentlemech" does look like he's ready to start shooting at the bug. His trigger finger twitches as if just waiting for an excuse to bring his blaster out of subspace. "I am a shuttle... I soar through the *stars* over ground-crawlers like *you* without even thinking twice about the grimy undersurface you must forever dwell in. I've seen places you can't even *imagine*." Ok, so that was all before space travel became *illegal*... but anyway. Then Starscream INSULTS HIM FURTHER OH MY PRIMUS WHAT IS THIS. The shuttle nearly flails with indignant outrage. "I am NOT UNSTABLE!!!" Another loud HUFFFF. Then he glares to the Insecticon. "But VERY WELL. You challenge a /Combaticon/ to /combat/? Prepare to /regret/ it!" Instantly, his ionic blaster is out of subspace and in his hand. "To the arena, then?" Bombshell chuckles as he raises the blaster from the floor. "Seems I have been summoned to the ruffian's stomping grounds. I will warn you in advance, falling is the least of your problems when you step up to a Warper." Starscream enters the mobile gladiator arena known as the Forge. ++ The Arena ++ Starscream grins deviously. "Oh~ I hope this is entertaining. Blast Off, you're all about putting on a good show, aren't you? Be a good sport, both of you. Don't make me intervene." He hovers above the arena, arms folded as he looks down at the mechs below. He smirks. "Well, then. Let the games begin." Blast Off huffs at that, too. "I won't be falling. I assure you- fighting a Combaticon is something you will not soon forget." He glares up at Starscream, but doesn't retort. This time. Instead he steps into the arena, brandishing his blaster. "Very well, Insecticon. You wanted a battle? I shall give it to you. Perhaps then you will learn not to sass your superiors." With that, he launches up, anti-gravs rocketing him upwards as he fires at the Insecticon. Combat: You miss Bombshell! The sudden thrill of violence intoxicated Bombshell as he quickly hurries back into firing position of the Shell-launcher. As much as the Insecticon hated to admit it, there wasn't much hope of fighting a seasoned warrior without a little cheating. So, with a sudden release of energy from his head piece the little dot of control fired at the incoming Combaticon. +attack Combat: Bombshell partially hits Blast Off for minor damage! Blast Off ...misses?!? He blinks, surprised, then his engines growl slightly as he rockets upwards. The shuttlw spots something coming at him, but whatever it was, it doesn't seem to hit... or he doesn't think it did. He certainly doesn't *feel* any damage. "Ha! You'll have to do better than THAT, Insecticon!" The Combaticon fires off another shot, finding he has to shake his head a bit as he feels just a little woozy suddenly. A hand comes up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, then he returns to firing his weapon at Bombshell. Combat: Bombshell partially blocks your attack and takes less damage. Bombshell can feel the shell slowly poisoning the Combaticon. Though his concentration is partly broken as he takes a good hit to his chest. Nothing major but enough to spill some energon. He needs to slow the enemy down while his little toy takes control. "Fool!" he shouts as he fires his blaster, the first he's ever fired in fact. +attack blast off Combat: Bombshell partially hits Blast Off for minor damage! Now that definitely DID hit, though the Combaticon whirls around in midair as he streaks up and around and thus evades the worst of the shot. Still, getting called "fool" does nothing to improve Blast Off's mood. He shakes his head again, that bothersome dizziness still creeping in. It slows his movements some, until he finally pauses in mid air to fire off another round. "I'm not falling yet, Insecticon! In fact, you will fall long before *I* do." Combat: Bombshell partially blocks your attack and takes less damage. Again with the blaster, though this time it removed one of his smaller insectiod limbs. They'd grow back in time but still it was annoying if he decided to walk in his alt mode. Concentrating harder, Bombshell intended to knock Blast Off off balance with another blast of his weapon. All the while allowing the Shell to sink into his systems. Combat: Bombshell partially hits Blast Off for minor damage! Blast Off is a difficult one to hit, however, and he is putting on a show despite all his protestations earlier. Once again the shot only manages to strike along a shoulder, blasting off some armors but not quite knocking him down. "Ha." He's till airborne, and by this point he's detemrined to stay that way. The shuttleformer sniper sweeps forward, swerving overhead as he fires once more. Though that dizziness is only getting worse. Combat: You hit Bombshell! Bombshell cringes as his previously grazed wound is blasted away leaving a mess of sparking wires and leaking energon. Managing to once again lift his blaster, Bombshell fires off another shot but than begins pacing back and forth in a attempt not to lose his balance and fall. That shell had damn better work faster if Bombshell is to walk away from this. Combat: Bombshell misses Blast Off! Blast Off isn't doing that great himself. Once more he shakes his head... the strangest feeling permeating his systems. "What the slag...?" he mutters to himself. Still hovering in mid-air, there aren't any fancy maneuvers- just aiming and shooting. Combat: You hit Bombshell! Bombshell stumbles, taking a nice long trip to the ground and landing with a heavy thud. He's hurt quite badly, but, if he can concentrate he may actually be able to survive the encounter. With the last of his might he sends out a incredibly powerful mental attack straight to the processor of his enemy. Combat: Bombshell misses Blast Off! Blast Off would smirk at that, if he wasn't feeling so oddly himself. Something is definitely... off about all this, but Blast off isn’t certain what. The dizziness increases, but doesn’t take him out. It is enough to make him wonder just 8what* the bug is doing, if anything. The shuttleformer finds himself having to truly concentrate in order to raise his weapon and fire once more. Combat: Bombshell partially blocks your attack and takes less damage. Bombshell lets out a few hisses. The pain from the latest shot only adding to his rather grievous wounds. Again and again he attempts his cyber attacks, hoping to still salvage this fight, and take a chance to humiliate the Combaticon. Combat: Bombshell hits Blast Off! Blast Off manages a smirk this time, watching as Bombshell hisses like the ground-pounder Insecticon he is. That should show just who is naturally superior, after all. Then suddenly the dizziness hits like a flood, and the Combaticon reels back. "Gah!" Clutching his head, he starts flying backwards, confused, as his mind seems to fog over. "What the..." Dark laughter escapes from the Insecticon as he manages to raise himself from the ground. Holding himself against a wall Bombshell looks over the warrior, "Perhaps you'd care to assist a superior Insecticon by closing his wounds? It wasn't a request it was an order, one that Bombshell quite needed at the time. Blast Off struggles against the words, but they seem to fill his mind, erasing most everything else. His backwards flight slows down, then ceases, and his head shaking stops. The confused look remains. Blast Off would be horrified if he could think straight right now.... but he can't. The command seems oddly... reasonable. Slowly, the shuttle sinks down to the ground, touching his feet on the floor and walking over to the Insecticon. There's the slightest pause- something somewhere seems to want to rebel against this, but he can't remember /why/ for some reason. "I... uh... yes." He pulls out the repair kit he'd been using earlier from subspace and reaches over to begin patching up the other mech. It amused Bombshell greatly to see his counterpart working so carefully to repair his opponent. "Now I want you to take my blaster, and shoot off your own foot understood?" asked Bombshell as he pushed away his medic after sufficient work had been done. He'd live thanks to Blast Off. Now all that was left was a bit of humiliation. "And after that I want you to tell me /exactly/ why you came to the arena and avoid the senate so much." the mind is Bombshell's playground, and right now he was enjoying it more than a newhatched with it's own wings. Blast Off finishes his repairs, then steps back and listens to Bombshell's instructions. There's another minute hesitation at shooting his own foot off, but the shuttle doesn't have one of the most important things to him right now- a choice. His optics flicker for a moment, but then he does as told, taking the blaster and aiming it right down at his purple rocket-shaped foot. A loud BANG and he gasps in pain, stepping back as the mutilated foot smokes and burns. The Combaticon's ventilation systems cycle for awhile in confusion- and pain- as he processes the rest of the instructions. His hesitates once again, something protesting-screaming- in the back of his mind... but then speaks anyway. "I... I used to work for the Senate as an assassin. I... learned too much, and they grew suspicious. Then I... went to space, illegaly, several times, to obtain Element Zero and I... I was caught the last time. Nearly... offlined, fell to the ground here. Taken in by the Decepticons... found my team here... now I fight to try and earn some shanix... and respect again. And... keep away from the arm of the law. They'll... they'll kill me. Or... or worse." He winces, what's left of his foot throbbing, and tries to keep on one foot... though balancing with his mind this foggy is hard. Bombshell records the relevant information and makes his way towards the exit. "Now, blow off your other foot and scratch up your optics while your at it. After which the shell will detonate and you'll forget this ever happened." Bombshell's final orders are cruel but not so much as they could be. "Afterwards the shell will wither and detonate, freeing you and deleting your time as my pet from your memory. In which case a new fabricated memory will replace the lost time..something fun." in all truths all that would be left would be a memory of Bombshell savagely defeating Blast Off, and of course, allowing him to live only because the mercy of the Insecticons. With all said and done, Bombshell transformed and flew away from the scene, leaving the shell to carry out his final orders. Blast Off nods silently to these instructions, and has little choice but to carry them out. He might not remember all that occured- but Starscream, still watching, probably will. The Combaticon yelps in more pain as his other foot is blown away, and the severely injured shuttleformer can only hobble off as best he can towards repairs. Eventually his mind will clear, but he may well have a vague fear of Insecticons- certainly of Bombshell- from this point on. Though whether he learns WHY is another question.